Joel KirkhamYes, the lease of our first space in Naka-Meguro expired and the building was demolished. My good friend and co-founder Bjorn Houtman returned to New Zealand and I decided to continue the programme. Without much effort, I found the new space on the west side of Ikebukuro station, an interesting part of the city known for its young gangsters and slightly gritty atmosphere. Ikebukuro is in North Tokyo and is the second busiest train station in the world, with about 2.7 million people passing through each day. 

JKThe gallery is in an apartment in a quiet residential area close to a small park. The space is small, roughly 12 metres squared, and is one of four rooms in an old 1960s building. It includes a six-mat tatami room, a wardrobe space, and a tiny kitchen. The wardrobe is used as a display area, it’s a bit like a gallery within a gallery. The way this space is laid out is very modular and everything is measured by the tatami mat system: room sizes, building design patterns, and units of land. It is arranged like a bento box, this compartmentalising of things, the rice, pickles, miso soup, each separated with clear boundaries.

The apartment looks out onto the street below, and a gaggle of wires leading to a power pole. The walls are painted white, and the beams are left as they are. I heard from the owner that it used to be his sister’s room. In a sense the space has been treated like an interesting found object, its physical attributes have been exposed, and its domestic nature is in plain view. Aside from all that, the space has a lovely atmosphere and great natural light. The tatami mats help people to relax, and visitors often spend up to an hour or more with exhibitions.

JKI had previously rented an old Ramen shop, used it as a studio, and had a show there. That space was rented on a temporary basis and since that time I’d been hoping to find a new studio. Bjorn and I were always in communication about art, and when a space did become available, I asked him if he’d like to share it. We couldn’t afford to spend a lot and Bjorn wasn’t sure whether he needed a studio, and then we came up with the idea of setting up a gallery space that would be used as a studio between exhibitions. Our goal was to break even, with a studio and gallery that would pay for itself. Initially, we sold prints that we made, and we also asked exhibiting artists to contribute something (20,000 yen or about 260 NZD). After year two we stopped asking artists to contribute financially, as they already put so much into the making of shows. 

JKThe name Goya Curtain comes from the time of the massive earthquake here in 2011, which was followed by a tsunami, and the Fukushima nuclear power plant accident. The nuclear plants were shut down and electricity was rationed. It gets very hot and sticky in Tokyo in summer, so instead of air conditioners, people were encouraged to grow curtains of climbing plants such as the goya or melon (gourd), to trail outside their windows. These leaves block the direct sun, and keep the inside temperatures down. Green curtains in summer are not uncommon in Tokyo, but that summer, because of the situation, they stood out more clearly. Bjorn and I started a zine to document that time and called it Goya Curtain, then we kept the name when we opened the gallery in 2016, also liking the connection to Spanish artist Francisco de Goya. 

JKThe focus is rather on making great shows, and if something is sold then that's a bonus. We don't receive funding, and luckily the space is cheap enough that it’s affordable. I don't think it’s possible to find a cheaper room than this. People associate Goya Curtain with tatami mats, but that's incidental, we exist in this space because the room is cheap. If it were a space for commercial use, the rent would be much more, and this project would change into something else. So the spaces Goya Curtain uses are inherent to the project.

JKThis is a residential building, which means I need to be aware of who is entering the building out of respect to our neighbours. For this reason, viewing is by appointment only, and we don't have opening receptions for shows. If someone is visiting for the first time, we set a day and time via email or Instagram, and I ask them to follow Google maps to Goya Curtain. There are no sign boards outside the building, you’d never know it’s here. 

The google maps pin for Goya Curtain is actually a small rock set into the ground 10 metres past the actual building. When visitors arrive at the rock they call me and I’ll go down to greet them, and show them the way. I explain that it’s a private space, and that they need to remove shoes at the entrance, and then I take people up the steep, narrow, wooden stairwell. At the top, you can see a little business card on the door quietly locating Goya Curtain. Once visitors know the location, they still need to make an appointment, but may come directly to the room. At the first space, we used to have openings and sell drinks to help pay the rent, and these often turned into Friday night parties. Now I serve tea, and sit down with visitors for a chat. I like this low key method as the focus is more on the work.

JKI see my role as a facilitator. I like to work closely with artists to help them make great exhibitions. Some artists are very independent, and that's fine, while others require more of a curatorial role from me. Either way, the exhibition making, and how the work fits into the space is often quite collaborative. I’m a second pair of eyes for the artist, and I try to make the whole process as stress-free, and enjoyable as possible. Once the exhibition making is done, my role becomes that of host. I greet guests and introduce them to the work. It's a bit like a showroom in that sense.

JKGoya Curtain connects me to the wider world and I get to meet a lot of really interesting people. That's the main thing, and I also continue to receive an education in crafting exhibitions from the processes involved, and from the artists themselves. I sometimes say Goya Curtain is like my PhD project. There have also been opportunities to make exhibitions in other spaces, which is great. We had an exhibition at Caves gallery in Melbourne in 2018, showing photographs by Yusuke Kihara alongside my own work, and in 2019 hosted an exhibition by the Knulp Gallery (Sydney) members, as a type of exchange with an invitation to make an exhibition there in the future.

JKWe show both international and local artists. To begin with it was mainly friends, and since then our network has extended. We’ve shown quite a few artists from New Zealand and Australia, and from Europe. Many of the early exhibitions can be traced back to our (Bjorn and I) art school days in Auckland, and in the last couple of years our network has diversified. These days I will reach out to artists whose work I respect, and sometimes they agree to make shows.

The space itself also dictates the artists who show. For international artists I prefer smaller, lighter, easier to transport work. For example, Matt Hinkley showed up from Rotterdam for his exhibition with one small plastic Chinese takeaway box containing all his work and tools. Using tweezers, he installed a tiny pile of cast objects. What the work lacked in scale, it made up for in detail. Visitors were able to use a magnifying glass to see the work. The magnifying glass was more gimmicky than anything, but it added an element of fun to the work. Within the intensity and denseness of Tokyo, I like to think of Goya Curtain as one small part of Hinkley's installation, waiting to be found if you look close enough.

JKI wouldn't say many, but quite a few, and from well-regarded artists, who are very well organised and professional. Unfortunately, due to the fact that this is basically a one-person operation, I can only host 2-3 exhibitions a year now. Doing fewer shows means less pressure, more time to craft exhibitions, and a focus on quality over quantity. It’s also nice to take a breather between shows, and concentrate on my own practice.

JKAfter coming to Japan in 2006, I didn't seriously make work for quite a number of years, so in a sense I’m playing catch-up now. My friends and colleagues are making work to a very high standard, so I have a lot to aspire to, and intend to keep practicing. I use Goya Curtain as a studio between shows, and this is very important for me as I have a studio-based practice. I’m lucky in that I also have access to studios at my place of work, and a small workspace at my home. So I often make things elsewhere, then bring them here to interrogate what I’ve made in the neutrality of the space. 

JKRecently several new artist-run initiatives have been established including Lavender Opener Chair and im labor. They both host great exhibitions and are organised by lovely people. I’m also a fan of 4649, XYZ collective, Asakusa Gallery, Aoyama/Meguro, Misako & Rosen, Hagiwara Projects, and Kayoko Yuki gallery. Then there are the established commercial galleries like Tomio Koyama, Taka Isshi, and Scai the Bathhouse, which are all central to this art world ecosystem.^[02] 02. www.artspace.com/magazine  On top of these are the museums that stage large scale local and international shows, which include the Museum of Contemporary Art Tokyo, The National Museum of Modern Art, and the Mori Art Museum. 

JKThat's a good question and I don't really know how to answer. Goya Curtain is small, and due to the nature of the space, it’s a discreet project. We can’t draw too much attention, so the programme simmers on a low heat. The gallery is connected to Tokyo’s other smaller galleries and spaces, but quietly. Starting in this city from scratch hasn't been easy, to build trust and establish some history takes time, and effort. It takes being genuinely willing to support others, to visit exhibitions, and be a proactive part of the community. This effort is ongoing. Like most places it’s all really based on friendships, trust, and respect. I do feel support here though.

JKYes, you’ve met some of these people just from overlapping appointments. One of the best things about running GC is the interesting and lovely people who walk through the door. Generally, visitors are friends, colleagues, and art enthusiasts. 

JKWe hosted an exhibition of very fresh and beautiful paintings by Anoushka Akel. Most of the works included in the show were made in 2020, leading up to and around the lockdown period in New Zealand. The show is titled, (Red Legs) Hot Head. The atmosphere is warm, soft, and energetic.

JKRed Legs, Hot Head is the central work in this exhibition, warming the room, and those that gather around. Like the name suggests, the work is agitated and lively, and for this reason it took some time to find it’s physical place in the exhibition. The loose threads from the unstretched canvas trail the ground, reminding me of jellyfish tentacles.

JKI couldn’t find space for those two works in the show, so they were sheltered underneath Red Legs, Hot Head. Visitors are always happy and surprised when I reveal the hidden works beneath. The loose ends of the works contrasted beautifully with the tautness of the four stretched paintings. 

JKI was very happy with how that work sat in our space, hanging low to the ground between two windows. It had a lovely connection with the retro, frosted window panes. It took a few goes to get the overall install right, and bringing the works over to Japan was a challenge with the ongoing pandemic, but the exhibition turned out well and the feedback was very positive. 

JKYes, I have wonderful helpers. While I do most of the running of the space, making appointments, greeting people, programming etc., I also rely on friends for help. A good friend based in LA maintains our website, and an editor friend based in Tokyo goes over all the exhibition texts, using his slash and burn technique. And I have two wonderful bilingual translators, one based in New Zealand and one in Japan, who translate the texts into Japanese. Finally, there’s an unofficial board of directors, including Bjorn who I often run ideas by, and yourself. 

JKYes, and I’ve just signed a two-year contract on the current space. I’m interested in how to maintain something at a slower pace over a longer duration, without it becoming stagnant. Goya Curtain needs to grow and continually adjust to its and my changing circumstances. In regards to making decisions about Goya Curtain, it’s important for me to avoid anxiety and stress. The current space has limitations, but I like to think that these limitations add to, rather than subtract from, the story. I try to go with the flow of things, and work with what is available. I’m also on a constant lookout for other interesting spaces, so you may see Goya Curtain 3.0 sometime in the future.